New Zealand's out then

As we enter a wet British autumn after a wet British summer, my mind sometimes starts to turn to sunnier climes and dreams of raising our children away from headlines of stabbings and a life of scraping money together to pay for a mammoth mortgage on a modest home. I'm sure we won't do it, but some days it seems irresistible.

I didn't help when a former colleague now living in Australia recently sent me photos of himself surfing in the Australian winter. (That's winter, not summer.) We also have friends in New Zealand who send pictures of the expanse of green in which their children play. Compares favourably to the postage stamp we have in our back garden.

But perhaps it isn't meant to be. Yesterday I was given a sign! While I was at work contemplating the fabulous mountain biking in New Zealand over my lunch, Hayley was at home giving Oliver some kiwi only to find he came out in an allergic reaction. He complained of his mouth hurting and then his face started to swell up. She had to give him piriton but even by the time I came home in the evening his left eye was partially closed, though he was happy enough by then. We can't be 100% sure it was the kiwi but it seems to have been the culprit.

So maybe New Zealand just isn't meant to be.